


Pity Party

by imdex



Series: You Know the Rules [5]
Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dom/sub Undertones, Drinking & Talking, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Non-Consensual Tickling, Party, Public Display of Affection, Roughhousing, Thalmor, Tickle Fights, Tickling, playful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 16:21:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6862792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imdex/pseuds/imdex
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imani had encountered him a handful of times by now and slowly was warming up to him.<br/>The party hosted is in her honor but his company is nicer.</p><p>When asked if there's something she'd like to confess...she replies...and Rulindil finds himself in the middle of a most unwelcome <i>confession</i> of his own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pity Party

**Author's Note:**

> A self prompt that was hugely encouraged by my bestie @SoftlyTea. I'm still in a bit of a funk but hopefully this turned out alright :)  
> Turns out they share a common weakness :D 
> 
> Anyway! Be sure to check her works out!  
> They're wonderful!
> 
> Song title  
> Pity Party by Melanie Martinez.

This gathering at the Blue Palace had been for her. Imani, or I as she was known to the vast majority, had done Skyrim yet another service: she had vanquished Potema.

Jarl Elisif had called for celebration, the Bards College eagerly agreeing, the citizens of Solitude and guests from other holds eager to attend. 

Of course the Aldmeri Dominion had to be apart of such a _special_ occasion.  
Especially now that Lady Elenwen knew just _who_ Imani was. 

The entire city celebrated while the nobles raised their glasses and flashed their wealth within the castle walls. Rulindil had distanced himself from the large grouping, choosing instead to sit on a bench in a slightly darkened hallway off from the throne. 

It was for the best interest of the attendants. Rulindil was loathe to put up with idle conversation and nervous glances. He preferred it this way, preferred to feel as normal as he could in a land like this, without the scared stares and the less than unnoticeable glares from the braver humans. 

He could hear their conversations and fought off a grimace at the annoyance. 

_'Oh what a lovely fur!'_  
_'I enjoy a glass of Argonian blood wine with my bath. It's what keeps me so ravishing.'_  
_'This cheese isn't cheesy enough!'_  


He rolled his eyes and sipped his wine.

 _'So where is the so called hero?'_  
_'I've heard nobody has seen her face! There's no telling what she is!'_  
_'Egad! Someone stole my sweetroll!'_  
_'Isn't this for the Breton? That one that everyone calls 'I'? Nasty little thing. I've heard that she's a Thalmor pet.'_  


Rulindil's lip curled upward, eyes locked on the 'noble' pig of a Nord, silently taking in the full detail of her appearance.

So caught up in making a mental note to introduce the woman to Elven hospitality that he wasn't aware of the person that had crept up to his bench and had silently sat next to him.

"Some party." Rulindil stiffened but kept his eyes trained firmly on his next visitor.  
Choosing to ignore the slight shiver down his spine that accompanied the initial surprise he regarded her in low curiosity.

"You've yet to show your face to the population of Skyrim I hear? Most interesting, Breton."

"They've seen my face." he pulled his attention from the Nord that held Embassy reservations now and sent her a side ward glance.

"I don't go around in my armor all the time...as you're aware." he couldn't help the slight rise of the corners of his mouth "I've shown my face in nearly every city, but only a few know to put 'I' with my face," Imani snuck a slightly anxious glance up at him "and I can count on one hand the people that know my face and actually know my name." 

"I'm flattered."

"I'm sure you are."

He turned his full attention onto her and regarded her coolly.

"Why so hostile, Breton?" Imani tensed, sending him a slight glare.

"Ah, you're still wary of me?"

"I don't want to be…" 

Rulindil glanced around, noting that most of the herd of humans had descended the stairs or had distanced themselves from the scary Altmer in the hall, doing a heavy sweep of the room twice to be sure. 

The mer slid his arm around her middle, promptly ignoring the level of rigidness her body had achieved, and pulled her against him.

"There's no reason for such things. Unless, you're a heretic." his fingers traced her jaw, forcing her to meet his shadowed gaze, a more lascivious smirk on his features than he'd prefer "Perhaps there's something you'd like to _confess_ , hmm?" 

For a moment the Breton truly seemed to think something over rather intently and the hesitation caused the mer to pause, a bothersome tug of worry and a small jab of agitation flared at her silence, but then she smiled. 

She had smiled like that when she had bound him to his bed a few weeks prior and despite himself Rulindil felt himself grow eagerly aroused. 

"There is…something." 

"Oh?" he closed the distance and settled his lips and teeth against her neck to give her exposed skin tender attentions. "And what would that be?"

He missed the slightest worry of her lip as she thought her action through once more.

"I've wondered if Altmer, specifically sable eyed interrogators, are _ticklish_ "

Against his tunic on both of his sides he felt her fingers poke against his ribs, digits moving in a light grabby motion, and before Rulindil could cease it the Breton and her _damned_ curiosity set off a most distressing chain reaction. 

Somewhere in the room a glass shattered to the floor, voices went silent, and the mer found his lap a bit too damp from the wine he had promptly flung. She had jerked as harshly as he did from the sudden loud, and very un-Thalmorish cry Rulindil had elicited, and was now looking at him in a far too amused and entirely too _cruel_ silence while she stifled her laughter. 

He yanked himself back, hand curling harshly around her middle, Rulindil's mind flooded with choppy bits of insults, fear inducing guarantees, and worried pleas that she wouldn't repeat what she'd just done. 

But the playfully wicked little smile that currently held Imani's features told him enough to know that his sides weren't safe. 

' _Why_?' he thought with a look of bewildered shock apparent on his face.  
' _Why does this happen to me_?!' The guests nearby had stiffened, gazes turning and looking for the source of the shriek with identical looks of surprise. The surprise faded quickly to astonishment the moment their eyes caught a glimpse of the scary Thalmor and the Breton in the darkened corner in a most, _audacious_ at best, position. 

Faintly Rulindil could feel a most objectionable heat rise to his cheeks as their eyes lingered but the 3rd Emissary quickly stood and sent each one of them a look, the silent demand ringing as loud and clear as the touchy sound had been, and they quickly scuttled away or turned back to make nervous conversation.

He faced her, shot his hand down to her wrist and yanked her to her feet.

"You will come with me, immediately."

She objected slightly but had no choice but to stumble after the fuming mer that had started off towards the door at the end of the hall. Rulindil promptly flung her inside and locked the doors tight. 

"That was most uncalled for and unwise, girl."

"Well, if I would have known you'd screech like a mammoth on fire-"

"Silence! You will not breathe a word of this to anyone. Understand? I've been easy on you in the past but don’t think yourself above-"

He broke at the middle, hands curling harshly around hers.

Why had he allowed the little she devil back into his personal space?! 

He snorted, face downcast, refusing to let the laughing Breton see him.

_I-I am s-stronger…_

He fell to his knees and whimpered, biting his lower lip firmly, aware of the pitiful noises his refined throat was making.

_….t-this wi-ill…n-not-t go unp-puni-ished_

She managed to get her fingers to the bottom of his rib cage and Rulindil promptly threw his head back and from his body came a loud, gleeful, positively _addictive_ peal of laughter. 

_f-figh-ht ba-ack!_

His hands grabbed desperately at her own waist and 

"NOO!!!" 

_**ohh yess** _

The two rolled around the room, crashing into furniture, knocking down books and a random assortment of miscellaneous items from shelves and after what felt like an eternity Imani _finally_ begged for mercy.

She lay beside the mer on the floor staring up at the ceiling with breathy wheezes, Rulindil faring no better, heartbeats rapid in their chests and ribs feeling a bit raw. Tenderly the Breton pulled herself into a seated position and scoffed slightly at the sight of her party dress.  
"I'll have to make a mental note: Dresses die at the interrogators hands too."

"This" Rulindil licked his lips and sat up, curling his hand around the fabric at her chest "this is of your own elect." he pulled her forward and kissed her weakly.  
"May I **strongly** suggest you never commit such heinous acts against Thalmor officers in the future. Such actions will come at a price, Breton."

He snuck a glance to the large bed behind them and smirked with earnest fervidly. 

"And your punishment will commence, now." 

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jarl Elisif retired to her room some time in the late hours of the night. As the slightly tipsy Nord began to ready herself for bed two figures, one with a tender wobble in their gait, crept out of the slightly jarred door and out of the palace.

Perhaps it was the mead and wine that played tricks on the future high queens senses but nonetheless Elisif drifted off with a slight coo of praise for a enjoyable gathering...and for her pleasantly warm bed.


End file.
